Eunice K. // THE RED LINE

On this cold Friday evening

We are brimming on the neck of the doorstep

Soles on shoes on fading yellow tape,

 

Softly absorbing the color

And carrying it out with them

Mirror dust and tunnel echoes

 

Made possible by human feet and flesh

And the iron wheels that outran them,

 

Bringing back blinking air

From twenty miles away

Deep in the ground

 

Vessel, void of life and only color

And rushing through the underground trench

In a waterfall of rubber shoe soles

 

 

 

Red Line

 

On this cold Friday evening

We are brimming on the neck of the doorstep

Soles on shoes on fading yellow tape,

Softly absorbing the color

And carrying it out with them

Mirror dust and tunnel echoes

Made possible by human feet and flesh

And the iron wheels that outran them,

Bringing back blinking air

From twenty miles away

Deep in the ground

Vessel void of life and only color

And rushing  through the underground trench

In a waterfall of rubber shoe soles

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